


Cold

by Ona512 (seastarSinger)



Category: Club Penguin
Genre: Amnesia, Banned Together Bingo, Club Penguin Rewritten Canon, Gen, Implied/Referenced Characters - Freeform, Slice of Life, Snowball Fight, Spies & Secret Agents, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seastarSinger/pseuds/Ona512
Summary: Who Is This's first week on Club Penguin culminates to his first memory, after meeting G Billy of the Penguin Band.
Relationships: Original Character & G Billy
Kudos: 5
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Cold

_“Antarctica? Ain’t that the coldest place on Earth?” he said._

_“Yes! But we’re adapted to the climate and made a nice little town here,” An agent said to him._

_“We’ll make sure your iggy is in a warmer part of the neighborhoods, if you like?” another agent said, typing in their digital computer._

_“...sure?” he said._

_“Great! The Director tells us this is the best course of action for you. Considering your memories are hazy,” The first agent said, “Since you live here now, it’s okay if you never gain your memories back, but if you want to, try and search your head when you feel comfortable to!”_

_Indeed, his mind was filled with so many fragmented memories. The clearest memories he has were playing with toys on the floor of a dusty cabin, playing with BBs with his pop, crying over spiky things stuck in his fins, and then..._

\--------

Just a week ago, a penguin by the name of Who Is This was discovered by the EPF in the outskirts of Club Penguin. He was found lying inside a cave and unresponsive. The floor underneath him was singed in the shape of his body, but no traces of a fire could be found. Now, after he’s been screened by the EPF, Who Is This waddles around Club Penguin like a usual citizen.

However, wherever Who Is This walks, whispers follow. In the Snow Forts, he was just trying to stay away from the gusts of wind that picked up. But he just _had to_ overhear more penguins talking about him across the field:

“He looks like a cowboy, that’s not so special,” one penguin said, pointing at his hat and boots.

“But they found him nearly dead!” another replied.

“Did he try to burn himself alive?”

“He seems okay now...”

“No, look at him, he’s shivering,” a penguin pointed out, “Maybe he needed to be _really_ close to a fire, huh?”

True, compared to other penguins, Who Is This is quite thin. The smallest breeze made him rattle. But the sounds of penguins giggling behind him, oh he never felt any warmer this week.

With crossed flippers over naked russet feathers, Who Is This turned to them with a glare that twinkled under the brim of his hat.

“Now, didn’t your mama ever tell you not to talk behind someone’s back? How about you say that to my face,” Who Is This had a cool expression, letting the sounds of gasps in the crowd of penguins rise and fall.

“No! Wait, you have the wrong idea!” the penguin said, waving her arms.

Who Is This did not drop his gaze on the penguin. Another one, probably her friend, stepped in between their staring match.

“Yeah, ever heard of something called ‘sarcasm’? You should,” he said and tipped his beak up at Who Is This, waddling away. The other penguins followed. Who Is This broke his gaze and returned to leaning against one of the forts.

Seething, Who Is This adjusted his hat. He was told the penguins here were _friendly_. On his exposed chest, he felt a rush of coldness hit him. In shock he looked down at the white mass of snow scattered on his body and spun around to pick up a lump of it himself. Something about this rush felt familiar to him, but he pushed it aside as he reeled his flipper to throw back in the direction of the snowball that hit him.

“Hey there, partner!” a blue penguin said.

Who Is This stuttered from the remark, and lost his momentum. The snowball in his flipper wasn’t a speedy white demon of revenge, but a soft cotton ball that blended into the ground next to this penguin that called out to him.

The blue penguin walked closer and closer to him as he spoke loudly around a sudden gathering of penguins.

“I heard you’re new here from a friend of mine! I’m G Billy, I’m in a band that performs on Club Penguin here,” he smiled big and wide.

“N-nice to meet ya, G Billy. I’m called Who Is This around these parts.” Who Is This, flustered, tipped his hat robotically.

“Sorry, what did you say?” G Billy asked, leaning his ear closer.

“I said I’m called Who Is This ‘round here! That it’s nice to meet chya!” Who Is This yelled.

“Alright! That’s great, hey, don’t mind the small crowd, we’re going to the lighthouse to jam! Wanna come?” G Billy asked, gesturing with his fins to join anyway.

“If it will get me away from this wind, then sure!” Who Is This replied. “Why I think walking with a celebrity would be fun.”

“HAHA! I’m not a celebrity,” G Billy said. “I just play in a band that got popular,” Just then, someone asked him to sign their unicycle.

Who Is This made the right choice to follow G Billy and his fans into the lighthouse at the edge of the island. It was better than being alone. Penguins crowded the stage and played various instruments. Who Is This sat down on a folding chair in the back and watched.

“It’s amazing to have a new penguin on the island,” Who Is This heard from beside him. G Billy was standing next to him. G Billy had his eyes on the stage, eyes soft and relaxed. “It seems like more penguins are setting sail and leaving than coming in anymore.”

“I don’t have much to say on that, G Billy,” Who Is This replied.

“Oh, that’s okay, but like, I wanna let you know that I’m kinda excited to see a new face.” G Billy pointed his flipper at faces on the stage. “I know many of these guys by heart now.”

“So what? Don’t new faces bring new trouble?” Who Is This said, flippers crossed again.

“Not really!” G Billy laughed.

Who Is This lowered a brow at G Billy, “Everyone’s friendly?” he asked.

“Totally!” G Billy smiled at Who Is This, “Pretty much everyone here is friendly.”

Being unlucky, it seems, is what Who Is This has been doing all day. Every word he heard and funny remark about his name, it hurt him. Was he just sensitive? Was he just not used to the humor on this island? He gave himself three days to understand the culture here, but he can’t figure it out, not even after a week, neither.

A breeze from the top of the lighthouse had spiraled down and all the way up his back. Who Is This curled in on himself, trying to stay warm again. Getting used to the weather would take longer, for sure.

“Darn this cold,” he cursed.

“Oh, oh yeah!” G Billy said, “one of my bandmates made something for you,” he ran off to the side where three other penguins were, chatting.

Who Is This wasn’t sure if it was polite to watch or look away as G Billy carried a green-looking lump of mass behind his back towards him.

“Here!’ G Billy said, and unfurled the mass: a green shawl with orange and purple weaved in between.

“My buddy K made it for you. He noticed you were cold all the time. He’s still practicing, so the colors look weird. Hope you don’t mind.” G Billy handed the shawl over to Who Is This.

Immediately, Who Is This threw it on and shoved as much of his body into it as he could. It was long, so walking in it may be tough, but for now he felt the heat slowly radiate inside the shawl. His body relaxed.

“Tell him thank you for the shawl, G Billy,” Who Is This said, “It’s mighty warm.”

“YO K! HE SAID HE LIKES IT!” G Billy yelled across the lighthouse floor, making Who Is This jump.

“Nice!” A small voice replied in the distance.

For the rest of the time Who Is This spent in the lighthouse, G Billy stood next to him, going back and forth between cheering the penguins on the stage, and making remarks about Club Penguin and how great it is to be here. Who Is This, while listening, decided now was a good time as any to try and search through his mangled memories again.

Looking down, he noticed his boots. He hasn’t taken them off since being here, even sleeping. He wondered if the engravings on them were any hint into his memories: A heart.

Not too special...it’s a heart on his boots. Does he like hearts? Maybe he does? A little...only a little.

Where did he get them? He closed his eyes and thought. He bought them where? Where? Did he even _buy_ them—Oh!

_No! He didn’t! He didn’t buy them! They were a gift!_

Just like the shawl, Who Is This got these boots as a gift. The flooding feeling of being grateful for them swept his body. _Someone special_ gave them to him, he’s sure of it. Maybe his pop. Looking back down at his boots, he smiled at them. Small progress, it seems.

He wondered just how much of his clothes were gifts to him. His bandanna? His hat? Who Is This looked up into the spiraling staircase of the lighthouse.

What else was he gifted? And Who?


End file.
